The Present State of Things
by scullyseviltwin
Summary: How the diary came to be read by Josh. During 'War Crimes.'


Title: The Present State of Things

Author: ScullyAsTrinity

Rating: PG

Spoilers: War Crimes

Dedication: To SMKLegacy... and the awesome review!

From the shooting script for 'War Crimes': Donna looks at him, her eyes slightly downcast. He puts his arm behind her on the back of the bench, although she's not sitting close enough to him for his arm to really be around her shoulders. It's a slightly awkward, but well-intentioned, gesture.

---

"He-here." Donna said, eyes downcast, not bringing herself to look him in the eye. She couldn't, it was quite literally physically impossible.

Josh had called her in a heated panic, demanding that she bring him the diary so that he could go over it. So he could see just how deeply see had lied. She couldn't bear to listen to the pain in his voice when he had called her. He had hung up quickly enough, relieving of her having to listen to his disappointed voice a moment longer.

She broke out in a sweat when she bent down to retrieve it from the place it had landed on the floor. She had, out of impulse, gone to pick it up when she got home, but threw it across the room in a rage. It embarrassed her; a thirty-year-old woman still keeping a diary. Who did that? Someone who was put through all the stress of working in the White House that was who. Someone who needed a diversion, something to distance themselves from the chaos, something to remind herself that she was real; that she was human.

And then, as she handed it over, she truly felt as if she was giving over a piece of herself. Everything about her was contained in the pages, including some very indecent thoughts about a one Mr. Joshua Noah Lyman. But she had to, if she still wanted to have his trust, keep her job, her sanity... she had to.

So she did.

In Josh's dimly lit office, she handed over her journal and nearly cried. Nearly.

Instead, she stood there and waited for him to dismiss her. When he didn't, she began to feel nervous. He leaned back in his chair, put his feet up on his desk and flipped open the cover, mockingly.

"Josh?" She asked, her cheeks heating to the point of burning.

He looked at her briefly and bit his thumb. He pointed to a chair. "Sit." He said, his voice darker and newer than she had ever heard him before. But she hesitated, stepping towards the chair, then stopping. "Josh, I-"

"Donna, as much as I care about you... you sit in that chair or you leave this office. If you leave this office, it'll be for good."

Her face paled even more than normal and her mouth shot agape. She was stunned by the seriousness, if not sincerity in his eyes. He pointed to the chair again, and turned his attention back to the book. So she sat, prim and proper in the chair, folding her hands in her lap. She didn't take off her coat, even though she was on the verge of passing out from the heat. She refused to pick up her cell phone when it rang.

She just sat there. Still. Silent. Looking anywhere but at him.

She thought of all the times she had wanted to leave, when the stress became too much, when watching him self-destruct became too much to bear. She recalled the times when she had wanted to cradle him in her arms and tell him that he would make it through, that they would together. She conjured up the repressed image, on the campaign trail when she had stumbled into him in a non-descript hallway and he had pressed his body against hers and said it was okay... and to get him that friggin press release.

Donna thought of the time she had collapsed on his bed in L.A. damning herself for putting herself through the emotional pain of attempting to hook Josh up with Joey Lucas. But it had felt good at the time, the pain, the longing. And when he had returned to the room, trying not to look dejected, her heart nearly cracked, the fissures in it radiating outward.

"Oh, oh Josh. I'm so sorry." She had said when he sat down on the bed. He pretended to brush it off, but she knew better. "Come on, she just can't see what I-...she can't see what all the other girls see Josh." She smiled, ribbing him, making him smile just a bit. He'd then spontaneously decided to tickle her, leaving them both a laughing mess atop the covers.

She remembered how much she had wished they had been under them, divested of all the troubling clothing and thoughts.

Her mind wandered to the time that they had been at his apartment, perusing what seemed like millions of depositions. They ordered take out, and she had gone looking for soda, finding only a bottle of expired milk, a rotten tangerine and a bottle of wine in his refrigerator. He had told he that it had been in there since the night they had won, that he had intended to drink it in celebration... and also in moderation. He had said there was no point to it now; he'd buy a new bottle when he again indulged in such an ambitious political fight.

So, they had popped the cork and drank merlot with their Thai food. After Donna's second glass, she felt warm and sleepy, but fought to stay up, highlighting this, underlining that. It was after Josh's third glass that he had sat next to her on the floor, head swimming, and had kissed her neck, wet and open. But they hadn't ended up in bed, he ended up hugging his toilet for most of the evening, and she had slept in his bed, surrounded by his scent, but not his body.

It seemed to be hours before she felt the atmosphere in the room change and peeked up at him. His expression had softened, and his mouth was slightly slack, his eyes sad.

"December 24th." He began, his eyes flickering up to hers so briefly that she had almost missed it. "I thought he was going to die. End of entry." He said quietly, his voice taking on a different tone. "December 25th. Luckily mom and dad are with Allison this week so I don't have to go home. Have to stay in D.C. anyway, in case something happens, in case Josh needs me. Well, I don't have to, I want to. Have to drop this now though, I need to go grab some dinner. Some possibly misery later on."

Then, he stared at her. Long, long and hard and she stared back, feeling the urge to cry again. "I, um... I... what date was Cliff?" He asked, clearing his throat and avoiding her eyes completely.

"October." She whispered out, letting the tears fall, watching his eyes skim over the entries he wanted. He read, reread, paused and read again. Then, he closed the book and turned to look out his window at D.C. He sighed, and finally, after long moments, turned to her.

"Donna, I-" But he stopped when he saw her tears. Closing his eyes, he bit his lips and ran a hand through his hair. "We have to go meet Cliff."

---

You were just friends, at least that's what you said, but now I know better. From his fingers in your hair. I'll forgive you for what you've done, if you say I'm the one. It's not my style to lay it on the line, but you don't leave me with a choice this time. What, what did you choose? You know I, I trusted you. **'Just Friends', Gavin DeGraw**


End file.
